Walking Dead Man 2: Steps Along a Path
by Claire57
Summary: COMPLETE. Renee needs to steal some specialized equipment from the Atavus-infested Mothership. But she finds more than she expects.


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Walking Dead Man 2: Steps Along a Path

By Claire Boston

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Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were, I'd take better care of them. I promise to give them back. Eventually.

Spoilers: "Point of No Return", "Unearthed", "Pariahs"

Rating: PG, mature themes

Summary: Renee needs to steal some specialized equipment from the Atavus-infested Mothership. But she finds more than she expects. 

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"Renee, I don't know that it'll work. I don't even know if it's possible!" Street was almost pleading. 

"But it might! And right now, we don't really have many options left to try, do we?" Renee's voice held more than a little of the old tone from her days as CEO of Doors International. Before she was forced to resign. Before she became an outcast. 

Before the Atavus came.

Street continued to argue, knowing what the stakes were on this one. "We're talking fifth, maybe sixth, dimension here, Renee. This is way beyond anything anyone on Earth has done before!"

"But the math is there, right? It could work."

"Look, developing the theoretical mathematics for nine dimensions may have solved the Taelons' riddle – and started this whole mess, by the way. But we are way far away from even beginning to develop practical applications of the fourth dimensional equations, much less…"

"Do we have a choice, Street?" Renee interrupted.

The redhead looked down and took a deep breath, then raised her eyes reluctantly to her friend's. "Not really," she answered quietly.

"Then I'm heading up to the Mothership. I'll get what you need, and be back before you know it." But they both knew it wouldn't really be that easy. It never was.

*************** 

It had all started a week earlier. As Renee Palmer had entered the Lair after another frustrating afternoon of failing to convince one of her previously-reliable news contacts to believe in the existence of the Atavus, she had stopped abruptly on seeing the swirl of Taelon symbols around Street's chair. Seeing her come in, Street had switched off the computer and turned excitedly to Renee.

"What was all that about?" Renee asked her friend.

Street turned to Renee with excitement in her eyes. "It might work! I see it now, it's the only explanation for the sensor readings! If we can just…!"

"Whoa! You lost me," Renee held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "Start at the beginning."

"Okay. Remember when we were in Ma'el's chamber, and we were trying to take readings of the regeneration chamber, where Liam was trapped?" "At Renee's nod, she continued. She didn't notice the flicker of sadness that crossed her friend's face at the mention of their lost friend. "Well, the readings kept fluctuating, like the chamber was moving around. We assumed it was just a problem with the sensors, because of the strange energy readings from Ma'el's chamber. But what if it wasn't? What if the readings we were getting were real?"

Renee frowned. "But how could the chamber actually move? It was inside a volcano, remember?"

"That's just it!" Street's excitement couldn't be dampened. "It couldn't. At least, not in three dimensions." Street grinned, then went on with evident pleasure. "But what if the chamber existed partly in one or more additional dimensions? Then our readings would be completely screwy, because they were never designed to detect more than our three dimensions! That's why the chamber seemed to move! Don't you see, Renee, Liam could still be alive!"

As Renee had stared at her hacker friend, she felt the faint stirrings of hope for the first time in months.

****************** 

So now, Renee was on her way to the Mothership, hoping to sneak on board and 'acquire' some Taelon tech that Street couldn't make, borrow, buy, or steal on Earth. With it, Street believed she could make a device capable of detecting dimensions beyond the three that Earth technology dealt with. Once they detected Liam, they had to figure out a way to get him back. Street insisted she had some ideas, but wasn't ready to talk about them yet. First, they had to determine if Street's hunch was right and Liam was present in a hyper-dimensional chamber that no one could see. She brought her shuttle in for a smooth landing, making sure that the shuttle's cloaking device was still engaged, hiding her from view and, hopefully, from any observing eyes on the Mothership. "I only hope I can remember where I parked," she thought wryly.

Moving stealthily through what her hand-sensor assured her was a deserted corridor, Renee stopped to check a partially darkened console for information on the lab that was her destination. The eerie darkness of the already-dying bioslurry walls made her want to look over her shoulder, but she knew that she didn't have time for worrying about someone sneaking up behind her. The sensors assured her that her destination was deserted.

Reaching her destination, she quickly checked over the tech packed into the room. Street had been specific about what she needed – thankfully, she had been able to pull the diagrams from the Mothership's databanks. Hacking in to the Mothership had become significantly more difficult, between the dying ship, the lack of maintenance of datalinks, and now no covering activity from ship's personnel – there was almost no one on board, so any activity could get the attention of Sandoval and the Atavus, if they bothered to look.

With a feeling of surprise, Renee spotted her target and quickly set about disconnecting it from the enigmatic device it was coupled to. About twice the size of her palm, it fit nicely into her shoulder pack. Mission accomplished, she looked around and quickly selected several items that Street had listed on her 'secondary shopping list', stuffing them carefully into her pack as well. Anything too large, and she would just have to leave it – she had to be able to move fast in case she was discovered.

Mission accomplished, she set off down the corridor, anxious to return to her shuttle as quickly as she could. Reaching a corner, she flung herself back against the wall as voices sounded from farther ahead of her. Heart beating wildly, she held her breath so as not to give herself away. Damn! She had forgotten to check her scanner! She strained to hear what they were saying. Howlyn! He was saying something about hybrids; she couldn't catch most of it. She held her position as the voice of Sandoval answered him, his tone just short of outright insolence. Howlyn answered sharply, and their voices faded as they moved down the corridor. Renee waited for what seemed like hours, wanting to be certain that they were gone, then she carefully moved down the same corridor, in the opposite direction.

About to pass a doorway, she paused as she noticed that the area showed signs of recent activity. Deciding that anything that those two were working on meant no good for humanity, she quickly slipped inside to check it out. It appeared to be a standard research area, nothing obvious, and she was about to leave when she spotted a doorway. Wondering if this held the reason for the pair's interest, she quickly stepped into the adjoining room.

In front of her was a tank, filled with clear fluid. She had seen the same kind of tank, filled with the blue healing fluid used to treat severe traumas, but never one that was clear. Moving to the control panel at the end of the tank, she scanned the information there, realizing with amazement that this was one of the stasis tanks that the Taelons had been developing for use with humans. All of the storage indicators were dark except two, one burning steadily and one blinking slowly. Thinking that this might explain the interest that Howlyn and Sandoval had in this area, she quickly pressed the sequence to activate the storage indicator for the blinking light.

As she watched in amazement, a swirl of sparkling energy began, quickly forming into a human shape suspended in the tank. Renee gasped in amazement as she recognized the figure.

It was the figure of Ronald Sandoval.

Renee stared in stunned amazement. How could this be? She had just seen – well, just heard – Sandoval with Howlyn. How could he be here?

With a strange sense of inevitability, she saw the figure's eyes open and blink several times. Stepping closer to the tank, she felt a shiver down her back as the eyes seemed to try to focus on her. Slowly, the lips moved. With a chill, she realized what the figure was saying.

'Help me.'

Continuing to stare at the faintly moving figure, she realized that the body held a number of marks – abrasions, bruises, burn marks. With a shock, she realized they were the marks of abuse, probably systematic torture.

__

It's Sandoval! she reminded herself firmly, _he deserves anything he gets_. But as she considered it, she realized that he likely had something that Howlyn wanted, information or some plan that he refused to reveal. Well, anything that hurt the plans of that unholy duo was good for humanity in her books.

Returning to the console, she took a deep breath and took one last look at the figure hanging suspended in the tank. Then she activated the final step in the revival sequence.

With a wet-sounding thud, the body collapsed onto the floor beside the now-empty tank. Pressing the release triggers, Renee quickly unsnapped the harness restraints from the arms and waist, then began pulling loose the various tubes. All she could see was the back of the dark head as she heard the sound of labored breathing. Suddenly, he began to cough, and she pounded him on the back as he fought to expel the last of the fluid from his lungs. Shifting slightly, she thought he was trying to get up, and she put a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. 

"Stay put until I get the last of these tubes out. Unless you don't mind me ripping them out, along with your skin!" Her tone was cold and biting, and the figure stilled, although he coughed again a couple of times as she removed the last of the tubes. Rising to her feet, she moved over to a table that contained a supply of towels and blankets, and picked up one of the latter. As she turned back to the figure, she saw that he had raised his head to look at her, and there was a look of surprise in his eyes.

"Miss…," a coughing fit interrupted him. "Miss…. Palmer." The words were hoarse and rasping, but there was no mistaking the awareness in those eyes.

"Look, I don't know who or what you really are, but if you want to live, then you do exactly as I say, understand?" Her tone was cold.

"What… Why are you…" At the glare she turned on him, he bit back the questions he obviously had.

"Okay, can you stand?" At the shake of his head, she moved to help him rise to his feet, hearing the groan he couldn't hold back as he moved. Only as she placed her arm around his back did it hit her that he was naked under the blanket she had draped over him. Before, it hadn't registered; she was too busy getting him out of the tank. Guiding him to the nearby examination table, she turned back to grab an armful of towels.

"Here. Dry yourself off while I try to find something for you to wear." As she thrust the towels at him, he looked up and his face colored. His other hand moved to pull the blanket together in front of himself, and he winced. 

Keeping her back to him as she searched for clothing of some kind, she could hear the rustle of the towels as he followed her orders. Finding nothing in the room, she turned back to her charge.

"There's nothing here in the way of clothes. And we don't have time to spend hunting for them; Howlyn could come back at any moment."

"Who?" he rasped out.

Startled, she looked at him, momentarily caught off guard. "Howlyn. The Atavus leader." At his continued puzzled look, she went on. "Look, it doesn't matter now, there's no time for Twenty Questions. If Howlyn comes back before we're out of here, we're both dead, and it won't be pleasant. So just be a good little boy, grab yourself a couple of blankets, and follow me." She ignored his look of outrage, which dissolved into another moan as he moved to stand.

Exasperated, she moved to help him as he leaned on the table. The blanket slid off his shoulders, and he dropped the towels he was only half-holding. Catching a large share of his weight, she couldn't help but be conscious of the male form pressed so closely against hers. She pushed the distracting thoughts resolutely out of her mind.

Grabbing one of the towels that hadn't fallen to the floor, she quickly reached to wrap it around his middle, as his eyes widened. Tucking it in as firmly as circumstances allowed, she pulled the blanket back up and held it for him to grasp. Their eyes locked for a moment, then she turned away.

"Come on. And do exactly what I say if you want to get off of this ship alive."

Moving down the corridor, she turned to check on her charge and saw him some distance back, leaning with one hand on the wall of the corridor. Biting back a curse, she retraced her steps.

"Are you gonna be able to keep up? Because if you can't, I'll leave you. I don't have time to babysit."

She could see his thoughts in his eyes, but all he said was, "I'll manage."

"Yeah, right. You're weak as a kitten." She paused, making up her mind. "Alright, lean on me. It's not too much farther to the shuttle."

"What happened?" She could tell that the question had been burning inside him. He continued to stare around at the dying ship as he had throughout the their trip through the shadowy corridors.

"Answers later, once we get out of here."

Neither of them spoke again until they rounded a final corner and saw the open area of the docking bay ahead. Releasing her hold on her charge, Renee motioned for him to remain still as she drew her gun. Slowly and cautiously, she moved out into the docking bay, gun at the ready as she searched for any hidden threats. Satisfied, she turned back to Sandoval, slipping one arm around him again and keeping her weapon ready in her other hand as she led him toward the apparently empty docking bay.

Stopping in front of an empty bay, she tucked her weapon into her pants at the small of her back and reached for the small control clipped to her waist. At a press of the button, her shuttle shimmered into existence. Pulling her charge along, they made their way into the shuttle. As Sandoval settled into the seat and activated the restraints, she brought up the shuttle's controls and launched them out of the bay and back toward Earth.

****************

As the elevator door hissed open, Street turned from her consoles to stare at the two entering the Lair. First was a still-wet looking Ronald Sandoval, barefoot and wrapped in a blanket, followed closely by her friend Renee, looking grim and dangerous and holding her pistol on the man in front of her.

"You brought him here? Are you nuts?" Street started in.

"And just where am I supposed to put him? Besides, he's not going anywhere at the moment." Renee sounded exasperated. "He's barely able to walk; I think he's got at least a couple of broken ribs." 

"What happened? And who is he, a duplicate?" Street let her confusion show.

"Apparently, he's been enjoying 'Taelon hospitality' on the Mothership. And as to who, or what, he is, that's what we're going to find out." She addressed the figure before her, "Okay, let's go." She motioned with her gun toward the small medical bay to the rear of the large room.

Still silent, the figure of Ronald Sandoval started moving, only to gasp and sway unsteadily, reaching out a hand toward the nearby console to keep from falling. The blanket slipped from his grasp, and Street saw that he was wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Renee questioningly.

"He was in a stasis chamber; I reconstituted him from storage. There wasn't exactly time to go looking for something in keeping with his usual 'designer tastes', not with Howlyn roaming 'round the corridors outside." She looked at the figure before her, then biting back a soft curse, moved forward to slide her arm around his shoulders once again. "Come on, we don't want you passing out on the floor. You're too big to make a good rug." She began to lead him toward the examination area. "Street, fire up the diagnostic sensors; let's see how bad it is and if he's even worth bothering with." 

She felt a stiffening in the figure in the curve of her arm, but he still remained silent, his breath coming hoarsely. He gave another moan as she helped him onto the table. Renee realized that Sandoval – if it really was Sandoval – had to be in a lot of pain for any sound to be forced from him. As he slumped back onto the table with his eyes closed, Street activated the handheld scanner and began to move it up and down his body.

"You're right, there's one cracked rib; a couple more are bruised pretty badly. Lots of surface bruising, muscle trauma, some burns. Also, there are elevated blood levels of endorphins, cortisol – it seems pretty obvious he's had both physical and mental torture."

"In other words, he looks like all the Resistance members who've been through the Taelons' interrogations on the mothership. The ones that survived, that is." Renee's tone was hard. She saw the figure on the table flinch at her words, and she frowned. Sandoval, flinching? "What about his CVI?"

Street picked up another instrument, and activated its program on a nearby console. Then she brought it over to the man's head, looking over her shoulder at the readouts displayed on the screen. "Well, he definitely has a CVI. And it looks in pretty ragged condition, too." She studied the readouts, then added, "I can't be sure from just a quick scan, but it looks like his Motivational Imperative is definitely gone."

Still ignoring the figure on the table, Renee pulled open a drawer containing a variety of packets of medical devices. Selecting one, she opened the packet and pulled out a covered needle and a pair of vials. Moving to a spot near his torso, she lifted his arm and quickly wrapped a stretch band tightly around his bicep. He opened his eyes, and they widened in panic as he saw the needle in her hand.

"No!" He began to pull away.

"Hold him! Damn it! Street… Get the straps on him!" They both struggled to hold the panic-stricken man in place, and pull the table's straps up to hold him. He continued to struggle, gasping out repeatedly, "No! Please, don't! Please!" They were only able to restrain him because he was so weak and the straps were already hanging loosely from the table. Still, they both ended up getting several hard blows before they could tug the straps tightly into place. Then, breathing sighs of relief, the two looked at each other as Sandoval continued to struggle against his restraints. 

"Okay, let's put him under. Then I want to know what the hell's going on!" Street nodded and reached for the cortical suppressor, pressing it quickly into place against his forehead. As he quieted into the imposed sleep of the device, Renee quickly drew blood and tissue samples as Street began the process of downloading his CVI's memories.

************

Several hours later, with Sandoval still unconscious on the exam table, Renee watched as Street began to pull up the down loaded memories. The two watched in amazement as the most recent memories showed his interrogation at the hands of Volunteers, under the direction of Zo'or, then a confused series of images in which Sandoval seemed to see himself standing at the side of Zo'or. Wordlessly, Street looked at Renee.

"Go back further. See what happened just before the interrogation."

Replaying further memories, they watched as the scene at Sandoval's ANA trial played itself out, and heard Liam's voice as he offered to accompany Sandoval to the mothership. Then, the scene on the bridge with Zo'or, and Sandoval, their Sandoval, turning to see – himself.

"This is weird. I mean, how can he have memories of himself?" Street shook her head in disbelief.

Renee stared at the now-blank screen. "Maybe he's not Sandoval. We know the Taelons were playing around with copying memories into biosurrogates. Maybe he only thinks he's Sandoval."

Street shook her head. "His CVI shows a level of breakdown consistent with being at least two to three years old and showing signs of starting to break down. His DNA checks out; it matches with the record on file in the global database. And the tissue samples show none of the genetic residue from the Taelon's cloning processes." 

"So maybe he's the real Sandoval. And the one on the ship with Howlyn is…" Street's voice trailed off in horror.

"…a biosurrogate, with programmed memories and even less conscience than the original." Renee's tone was bitter.

**************

He awoke in darkness. Feeling an unaccustomed confusion, he allowed his eyes to roam around the faint shapes he could see in the muffling gloom. Abruptly, he realized that his body was held to the bed by straps, and he fought to keep from giving in to the smothering sense of panic. _This isn't the Mothership. Zo'or's not here._ But his body wasn't listening, and he began to writhe and struggle against the straps, his breath coming in gasps that began to resemble sobs. Finally, he slumped back against the pillow, working to regain his lost control.

__

Think, damn it, think! But the panic still kept threatening to overwhelm him as he struggled not to give in to the memories of pain and humiliation. At last, exhaustion from the emotional trauma took its toll, and he slumped into the welcoming darkness of sleep.

Watching through the one-way glass of the room's upper walls, Renee watched the man's struggles from within the veil of her own swirling emotions. This man had hurt her people, her friends, people who trusted her to look after them; for that, she hated him and gloried in his pain. But the memories of another kept rising up, threatening to break through her hard-won barriers around her feelings. 

Liam had risked his own life to save that of this man; even knowing that if Sandoval learned the truth of his identity, he would likely betray him to the Taelons, Liam had still put his own life on the line over and over in order to preserve that of Sandoval. As much as she wanted to, Renee couldn't forget that, couldn't push it aside as if it had never happened. His father's life had mattered to Liam, and he had been prepared to give his own in his father's defense more than once. She struggled to push down the memory of green eyes staring steadily into hers as the anguish of his voice echoed in her ears: "He's my_ father!" He's a monster, Liam, _she repeated firmly in her mind, _he's tortured and murdered innocent people, he's supported the Taelons' subjugation of Earth. He's even tortured you, and made no secret of his enjoyment of your pain! _But still, she seemed to see the green eyes gazing into hers as he whispered , "Faith, Renee. Have faith."

With an angry jerk of her head, she turned and headed back to the main room of the Lair.

***************

Sleep was short-lived, and the pain returned with returning consciousness. Not the physical pain of a bruised and broken body, because that had faded to the dull throb of weeks'-old bruises and strains. But the sense of anguish, of the violation of self that had become a part of his every waking breath. Realizing that he'd received medical treatment for his injuries while he was unconscious, he also became aware of something else: he was still restrained, but now he was fully clothed, wearing a T-shirt and what felt like sweat pants, and covered by a blanket. As he started to look around the now brightly lit room, the door opened and a familiar figure entered.

"How are you feeling?" Street asked brightly. When she received no answer, she continued chattering. "I'm sorry, but we really can't let you get up right now. I mean, Renee just isn't comfortable with the idea of letting you run around here. At least, not after everything you've done. Or somebody's done. At least it looked like you…" The words trailed off.

"Wha… What's happened?" Sandoval's voice was not much more than a hoarse whisper. He swallowed painfully, then tried again. "What happened… to the Mot… Mothership? How long…?"

"Here, let me get you some water." Street's tone was one of forced brightness. As she moved to the counter along the side of the room, he saw a tray holding a plastic pitcher and a small plastic cup, which the young hacker filled with water from the pitcher and added a straw. Moving over to where Sandoval lay, she offered the straw as he turned his head toward her. 

Sandoval was surprised at the water's coldness, and then after a moment he sucked greedily, as he suddenly became aware of his dry and painful throat. After a few moments, he lay back against the pillow, surprised at how weak he felt. "Thank you," he spoke the words with an unaccustomed sincerity. 

"You're welcome. Now try to get some rest. Your ribs and the stress fracture in your arm have been healed, but they still need time to knit properly, and they'll probably be sore for a while. We fixed the cuts on your back and chest." She frowned as she continued, "You also had some bad bruising internally, especially around your abdomen and lower back. Plus several pulled muscles, a bunch of bruises, and at least a mild concussion. Plus… well, you get the picture." Street smiled a bit self-consciously.

"I do, indeed." Sandoval's tone was quiet, and Street looked at him curiously. She started to say something more, then apparently changed her mind. 

"Okay, you just… stay there and try to rest, and Renee'll be back in a little while." Street moved toward the door, obviously wanting to leave.

As she started to turn the knob, Sandoval's voice stopped her. "Miss Street?" She turned to look back at him questioningly. "Thank you. For helping me." His voice was low, but it held a note of genuine sincerity that she had never heard from him before.

"Sure." Obviously confused, Street quickly turned back to the door, only to stop once again at the sound of that quiet voice.

"How long?"

She hesitated for a long minute, then spoke again without looking at him, "Ten months." Reaching for the door handle once again, she quickly opened it and left the room, also leaving behind the cause of her discomfort.

Once the young woman had left, Sandoval closed his eyes wearily, only to jerk them open again almost immediately. He didn't want to sleep; he was afraid of what he would see in his dreams. But his eyes insisted on closing_. Probably painkillers,_ he thought, _they must have given me something…_ His thoughts trailed off as sleep claimed him once again.

**********

"So what are we going to do with him, Renee? I mean, we can't exactly keep him tied up and drugged forever, now can we?" Street was insisting on discussing this with her now, and it was starting to bother Renee.

"What do you want me to do, turn him loose?" Renee knew her voice was harsh, and that her friend didn't deserve her rudeness, but she didn't really care at the moment. She did **not** want to deal with this – with **him** – right now. "Then we could have two Sandovals running around on the Mothership and scheming to turn Earth over to the Atavus!"

Street's voice was a bit defensive, but she was obviously willing to stand her ground. "That's not what I meant, Renee. But we can't just keep him a prisoner here."

"Well, we can't exactly turn him over to the authorities either, now can we? After all, they're either hybrids themselves or so determined to deliberately bury their heads in the sand that they'd ignore anything that threatens their little fantasy world!" Renee tried to reign in her anger, knowing that if she started venting it now, she'd probably end up trashing the place. And all it would get her was sore knuckles. Still, she couldn't hold back a forceful "Damn!" as she slammed her fist on the edge of the computer console. A stack of data discs slid sideways, but otherwise she didn't seem to have broken anything. Yet.

But Street wouldn't give up. "Look, Renee, we have to do something. I mean, we can't keep him strapped to a table indefinitely. Maybe," Street's tone changed slightly, "maybe we could lock him in one of the dorm rooms?" At Renee's look of amazed disbelief, she continued somewhat defensively, "Well, he doesn't have a skrill anymore, and he's still pretty weak from the torture. We could reinforce the door and put an alarm on it."

"That man is **_dangerous_**, Street! Are you going to be the one taking him food and tending his wounds? Because _I _sure as hell am not getting close to him without a gun to his head!"

"I'll do it."

"What? Are you crazy?"

"I _said_ I'll do it. If you don't trust him, then you stand guard. Or put a monitor on his room, for Christ's sake!"

Renee shook her head, not wanting to hear this. "No."

"So what are you going to do, Renee? Feed him by hand yourself? Or send him back to the Mothership? Why not just go ahead and kill him?" Street was in her defense-of-the-underdog mode. "If that's all you want to do, why did you bring him back?"

"I thought he might know something, or _be_ something, that could help us against the Atavus, all right?" Renee was yelling right back. 

"How are you going to find out if you starve him to death?" 

Renee hated it when Street got logical. "Alright. _You_ take care of him. But you don't go in there alone, is that understood?"

The redhead nodded, satisfied. "Understood."

********

Several hours later, the room for their 'guest' was as ready as it was going to be. Shaking her head to herself, Renee strode toward the medical bay where Sandoval still lay strapped to the gurney. Street followed behind. She knew the hacker wasn't satisfied, but she wasn't prepared to take changes with Sandoval. Checking the gun in her shoulder holster, Renee paused and looked back at Street.

Not bothering to keep her movements quiet, Renee opened the door and flicked on the light.

With the abrupt brightness of the room, Sandoval jerked awake with a wordless cry. Eyes wide with blind panic, he began thrashing against the straps.

"No! No, please! No more! Please!"

Renee stopped abruptly in stunned disbelief at the sight of the hysterical man, barely feeling Street bump into her from behind in the doorway. Yes, he had woken several times in the last few hours, always with an abrupt cry and a brief struggle against his bonds. But this? Could this really be Sandoval, the stone-faced monster who had ordered the torture of hundreds, even presided over their executions with cold dispassion?

Pushing past her friend, Street hurried to the confined man, offering soothing words. "Hey, it's okay. It's just us. You're okay." Renee stared at her friend in amazement as Street placed a soothing hand on Sandoval's shoulder. Slowly, he appeared to regain control of himself, and Street smiled at him reassuringly. Taking a deep breath, Sandoval seemed to relax, and he slumped back momentarily against the gurney.

Moving forward, Renee saw Sandoval's head turn toward her, and noticed that he once again became tense as he met her eyes. She suddenly found her mouth strangely dry, as something in his look echoed within her with a haunting familiarity. Funny, she had never noticed any resemblance between Liam and his father before… Shoving the thought away angrily, she stepped forward to confront Sandoval.

"So, now what are we going to do with you?" She met the dark eyes dispassionately, knowing that her own were cold. "Obviously, we can't just let you go." She stared at him for a long moment, seeing the struggle as he schooled his expression into the controlled mask she had come to know and hate. But somehow he couldn't quite pull it off this time; his eyes showed uncertainty and something else. Fear? Sandoval, afraid?

Unsettled, she made her voice harsher than it had already been. "So, if you want to live, then you're going to have to make it worth my while." She didn't see Street's surprised glance at her words; she had only made up her mind about this on the way to this room. "I want to know everything you can tell me about the mothership, its command protocols, the portals, the Taelons' secret installations on Earth, everything you know about their technology, their projects, everything. If you cooperate, you live. If you don't, or if I catch you lying to me, I'll make what Zo'or did to you look like a walk in the park. Is that clear?" 

He just looked at her wordlessly. Resolutely, furiously, she pushed the memory of grey-green eyes holding a similar mixture of helplessness, outrage, fear, and defiance to the back of her mind. She would _not_ think of that. Of him. Not now. There was too much at stake.

***************

To be continued in "Walking Dead Man 3-The Path Not Taken"


End file.
